


Hard to Get Over

by Monker



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angry Phil, Angst, Coulson in love, F/M, Fitz in love (he just doesn't know it yet), Fitz is a Good Bro, Gen, Heartbroken Phil, Hurt/Comfort, Lost Love, Missing Scene, Moving On, Pheels, Philharmonic - Freeform, The Only Light in the Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 02:22:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2092113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monker/pseuds/Monker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene from "The Only Light in the Darkness." Phil was managing to keep it together for most of the mission, but seeing Audrey again had a bigger affect on him that he initially realized. A talk with a sympathetic friend helps to bring him back to earth as Phil is faced with the question: where does he go from here? Philharmonic, with some bro-bonding for Phil and Fitz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard to Get Over

**Author's Note:**

> Had some leftover pheels when I watched "The Only Light in the Darkness" recently. I felt something was missing from the episode, so this oneshot is that missing scene. Please enjoy! And special thanks to acemerril for proofing this for me!
> 
> Deep breath in...deep breath out...here we go!

Phil climbed onto the stage with as much speed as his legs could muster. He was at her side in an instant, taking her wrist to feel her pulse. How long had it been since he'd held that hand in his own? She was as warm as his dreams remembered.

 _Oh god, please don't be dead. Please don't be dead._ He didn't know what he would do if he couldn't find a pulse. He wasn't prepared to be shattered in front of his team like that.

Coulson felt a gentle throb beneath his fingertips, and he released the breath he'd been holding right next to his worst fear. He felt both slip out of him as he looked down at the woman he loved. _Thank god._

He saw Audrey stir slightly. The blast hadn't knocked her totally out, apparently. Maybe...perhaps she could even hear him. He knew he should just walk away, not risk her opening her eyes and seeing him. He knew he shouldn't reach out and touch her face. Or whisper her name. Or deliver the kiss he had been saving for her ever since he was called away to New York. But he just couldn't pull himself away from her. Not yet. Just a second more. Then he would leave. Honest.

He gently reached out and touched her hair, that silky, lush hair he had been tangled in so many times before. "You're safe," he said, keeping his voice soft, wearing the mask of a dream. "I'm still here. I promise I'm still here with you."

He leaned down to her perfect skin and gave a kiss to her head, the kiss that belonged on her lips. He should pull away. Any second now. He shouldn't press his luck. But then he heard her moan gently, and felt her lean into his kiss ever so slightly. For that second, the first second in what felt like a lifetime, she felt him, and he felt her, and they responded to each other. They were together again.

Nothing could make that second as long as they both needed it to be.

_Now, Phil. You have to._

He pulled away before he could leave a tear drop on her cheek. He heard her breathe deeply in as he stood. She was waking up. His feet carried him away, into the wings of the stage. But he stopped there and turned around, unable to let his own legs fully remove him from his view of her.

Jemma was quick to fill the void he had left by Audrey's side. She placed her hand on the woman's shoulder as she stirred awake. Trip glanced up at his boss as he too crouched next to the woman. Fitz also looked up at Coulson, a sympathetic twinge accompanying the worry he held on his face. In any other circumstance, Phil would take a moment to feel touched that his team seemed to be so concerned for him, but in that moment, his full focus was fixed on a single form, slowly regaining consciousness on the stage.

The senior agent was forced to clamp a hand over his own mouth when he heard her quiet call to him. "Phil." It was almost more than he could bear.

"Are you okay?" he heard Jemma ask.

There was a pause as Audrey seemed to gather her bearings. The next time she spoke, there was a certain something that seemed to slip from her tone. Was it hope? "I thought...he was here. It seemed so real this time," her voice sounded so weak. Searching for something. Something that simultaneously rested in peace countless miles away from her heart, and also stood a few feet away in the shadows of that stage. What a cruel game perception could play.

A thousand words. A thousand responses flooded Coulson's mind and threatened to burst from his lips. But of the thousands, one alone would do. One sound would be enough to draw her gaze over to him. But then what? What could he tell her after that? That he loved her, yes, but what followed? I love you, sweet, and I'm alive, but now I have to leave you, again?

No, he hadn't even possessed the callousness to leave her knowingly the first time. He certainly couldn't muster it now, even if it bought him the sweetest of brief joys. So he stayed in the wings, shrouded in the shadow of the curtain, keeping the air around him silent. Never had being close to her hurt this much.

"See what we want to see, I guess," Audrey sadly conceded.

The weak smile on Jemma's face offered both sympathy and condolences. "I guess so," she said.

The quietest of breaths huffed out of Coulson as he kept the hand over his mouth. He knew the small cluster of people couldn't have possibly heard it from their distance, but that didn't keep Fitz from looking up at him in enough time to see the first real tear slip down the agent's cheek before getting guttered in the line between his face and his hand.

Fear struck Coulson's heart as he looked at Audrey and suddenly realized something. He was going to lose her. Again.

For a brief time, with this mission, he had her back. That kiss...it rekindled something he had been coming to grips with for almost a year, something he had been preparing to leave behind him. But then he felt her skin against his lips again, held her hand in his again, heard her whisper his name again. After working so hard to move on, for so long, it was like he suddenly looked down and saw a treadmill beneath him, and realized he had never covered any real ground at all. He was still just as compromised as when he'd begun. And now, he was going to conclude this case, take her home, get on his plane, and he was going to lose her again.

Overcome, Coulson turned on his heel and marched swiftly away. Distance. He needed more of it now. As much as he could manage.

He exited through the first door he saw and it lead him into a hallway. The hallway was pleasingly long and he followed the carpeting to the very last room. The door on the right was unlocked and he pushed it aggressively open.

He didn't bother with the light, letting the light from the hallway stream into the room alone. It was some kind of practice room, with rows of music stands and chairs lined up neatly.

With a frustrated growl that built into a roar, Coulson swung a foot at one of the music stands and sent it flying into several of the other ones. There was a battle for volume between the crashing of the metallic objects and the cry from deep within Coulson's chest. In the end, the broken man won.

He slammed both fists down onto the flat surface of a piano top, the harmonics of the instrument humming in sympathy at his strike. "Damn it!" he cursed. "Damn it, damn it, _damn it_!" He clutched the end of the piano and bowed low, letting his arms stretch out before him as he leaned into his grip and dipped his head towards the ground. He hissed harshly as he struggled to control his breathing. He wasn't going to cry. He just wasn't.

Phil stared down at the ground, watching the soft light reflect off of his well-polished shoe. He concentrated on keeping his vision clear, not letting it get clouded with moisture. His foot throbbed from the beating he had given the music stand, and he wondered at the sensation. How could he feel pain in his foot when everything else felt so numb?

He saw a shadow shift hesitantly on the carpet, coming from the doorway, but it wasn't a surprise to Phil. He had heard his pursuer as he stalked down the hallway only moments ago. He waited...waited for the other man to speak, but nothing came. All the while, Phil acknowledged that there wasn't much _to_ say. If there were words for this moment, Phil didn't know the language that held them, and he doubted the man at the door did either.

"What do you want to say, Fitz?" he finally asked, taking another second to steady his ragged breathing before standing erect again. He still didn't turn around though, let the light from the doorway beat against the back of his suit for a moment longer.

The scientist hesitated for a good while. Clearly, he didn't know what he wanted to say. "Is there anything I can do?" he finally asked, his voice gentle and compassionate.

Phil let out an ironic laugh. "Depends," he said, maintaining his grip on the edge of the piano. "How's that time machine coming?"

Fitz smirked sadly, though the reaction was lost on his boss. He didn't actually have a time machine, but Coulson had teased him about that fact once or twice before. "Come on," he would say, "every genius scientist should have a time machine project tucked away in his basement somewhere." Fitz' excuse had always been that, the second he got a basement, he'd start work on that time machine. They had shared an amiable laugh with one another over that a few times before. But neither of them was laughing now.

"The science is a bit troublesome," Fitz attempted the joke, and he heard a breath escape his superior officer in response. It wasn't exactly a laugh, but it was a shot in that direction at least.

Fitz waited for a moment longer, letting the small smile drift off of his face. "Would you like a moment alone, sir?"

Coulson sniffed. "No, I'm fine. I just, I couldn't-" he cut his own breath short, feeling the tremor in his throat before he even let it reach his voice. He tried again when he felt he had enough control. "I couldn't stand being that close to her anymore."

He looked up at the younger man. "Used to feel so nice, but now..." he said, offering a strained smile.

Fitz nodded, like he understood, even though they both knew he didn't.

They held each other's gaze for several seconds. One wishing he had something to say, the other wishing he had nothing to feel.

"Avoid this," Phil finally said. "However you can, Fitz, see that you avoid ever having to feel this."

Fitz looked worried for a moment, trusting that he needed to heed that warning somehow, but frightened that he might fail one day. But he eventually nodded, a silent promise of sorts.

Coulson sighed and looked back to the piano. There was quite a long time that passed after that. Long enough that Fitz almost forgot why he was standing in that doorway. His mind drifted to another topic, one with chestnut hair, a brilliant smile, and an unhealthy enthusiasm for dissecting dead things next to his lunch. It was something about seeing his commanding officer so worked up that prompted Fitz to consider certain people in his own life. He hadn't known a woman could pull such intense emotions out of a man like Agent Coulson. And Fitz had nowhere near the same level of self control and confidence as his boss. He knew the older man was in pain, but there was something oddly beautiful about his display as well. And dwelling on things like beauty and feelings usually caused Fitz' mind to wander to certain things and...biochemists he knew.

"Do you play?" Coulson asked a moment later, startling the younger man out of his thoughts.

"Sir?" he asked.

"The piano. Can you play it?"

Fitz looked at the instrument. "Took lessons when I was a kid, but I hated to practice, so my mum made me stop. I know a few songs on the harmonica though."

"Really," Phil said, a pleased surprise in his voice as he looked over at his engineer.

Fitz nodded and moved his hands into his pockets. "And you sir? Do you play anything?" He wasn't sure why they were changing to this subject, but he trusted that the change was needed. He'd play along if it meant helping this man he admired so much.

Phil's mouth arched into a subtle frown and he shook his head lightly. "I've never been very musical, but I have a lot of respect for anyone who is."

Fitz smiled gently, wondering if he should say what entered his brain next. "You know, your, umm...Audrey..." even in the dim light, Fitz could see the gentle smirk enter his commanding officer's expression. "...She was quite good tonight, wasn't she? Got a bit distracted, actually, listening to her play, waiting for Daniels to show up."

Coulson nodded slowly, the smirk more visible now. "Yeah," he said, "she's always that good. I remember...she used to practice the same piece a million times. Every time sounded flawless to me but, Audrey...she's a perfectionist. I'd just sit and listen to her for hours in her little practice room. Sometimes I'd bring in paperwork I needed to do. But most of the time, I just wanted to watch her. Watch everything. Every move...I was...intoxicated by her."

Phil's eyes were far away as he spoke. He knew every inch of her, and he had her movements memorized in the clearest part of his mind. He knew exactly what her hand looked like as it grasped her bow. He knew how her arms bent and drifted over the strings, and how they would often sprout goose bumps when the music truly spoke to her. He knew how her long, delicate fingers would arch over the strings and tremble to make the notes quiver under her touch, the same way he had quivered under it a thousand times before. How he missed those hands. He missed the feel of them. He missed the taste of them.

Coulson looked back up at his scientist at that moment, realizing that the other man had no way of eavesdropping in on the agent's intimate memories, but feeling oddly embarrassed all the same. He cleared his throat and offered a weak smile. "I enjoyed hearing her play again," he commented, like that accounted for his distant stare and happy smile.

But Fitz smiled too, giving a small nod. "Well, that's good." A moment later, though, the smile toppled off of his face and was replaced with a regretful grimace. "Sir?"

Coulson arched his brows at the younger man, giving him permission to continue.

"I'm sorry I suggested using Audrey as bait, sir. I mean, the plan obviously worked and Daniels is dead, but I know it was hard for you to see her come that close to getting hurt. And...I wouldn't have suggested it if I'd realized you were so...I mean, I don't think I had a full appreciation for exactly how...."

"You didn't think I'd actually be in love with her," Coulson clarified.

And there it was. The word Fitz had been cautiously trying to avoid. As a general rule, Fitz tried to avoid using that word, both in his own life and when discussing others. Hypereutectoid and de-alkalization were both easier words for him to use. They, at least, had identifiable definitions and expectations. But the word Coulson had just used was an intimidating one to the young genius, and Fitz was left feeling impressed, not for the first time, by the confidence of his boss. Fitz wondered what it must feel like to be a man _that_ sure of himself and his own emotions. He also wondered if he would ever get the chance to find out.

Coulson breathed out a small laugh when the scientist let the shocked expression and gentle shrug be his only reply. He looked at the young man and narrowed his eyes slightly as he studied him, a fatherly smirk at his mouth. "Have you ever been in love, Fitz?" he asked.

The scientist blustered at the question, his cheeks reddening slightly. "What me? No. Never. At least...I don't think so?" He asked the question to Coulson, like he would know the answer to that better than him.

Coulson did have a knowing look in his eye as he continued to smirk at the other man, but he didn't answer the question outright. Instead he looked down at the floor of the hallway behind Fitz. "You know," he began, "May's a great pilot."

Fitz scowled in confusion at the strange change in topic. But he remained silent, trusting that this would be going somewhere.

"On the bus, sometimes you can even forget you're in the air, the ride is so smooth. But then she might have to take us through some heavy cloud coverage, and you'll feel the plane shake from the turbulence. Sometimes, it's not even anything visible like clouds. Sometimes it's just a gust of wind that comes out of nowhere and rocks the plane. Sometimes the turbulence lasts only for a few seconds, sometimes it's the whole night."

Fitz nodded, remembering those nights himself. They were the reason he and Simmons had designed a new experimental medicine to ward off air sickness. So far, it seemed to be working, and the whole team was grateful for it.

"But then, other days, you look out the window and...your breath is taken away. It's so beautiful, flying above the earth, seeing sights no man got the privilege of seeing for thousands of years. You realize in that moment that this is a view fit for angels, and you wonder why you were ever content to be on the ground. The next day might be another storm or complication, you might be sick to your stomach from the turbulence, but in that moment, you don't care. In that moment, you accept that possibility, because none of that matters if it means you get to be with her for one more day. One more second."

Fitz quirked an eyebrow at the unexpected shift in his leader's speech. He looked at Coulson questioningly as the other man seemed to realize his mistake at the same moment.

He smiled and hiked his shoulders slightly. "That's what it's like, being in love. You never know exactly what you're signing up for when you get on board. Some of it will be god awful, and you'll feel like every bone in your body is about to snap from the weight of it all." Coulson looked meaningfully in the direction of the performance hall, his mind seeing through the walls that separated him from the woman he loved.

A gentle nod started to bob his head as he looked back at the scientist. He reassured, "But some of it will take your breath away...make you feel like you had never really been alive before that moment. Those times are so beautiful, and so..." he sighed away the last word. He had no way of finishing that sentence, and every way of finishing it at the same time.

Instead, he looked Fitz in the eye and said, "Those times make all the other times worth it. Even times...like this." Phil sighed again and grew quiet. The muscles on the side of his face flexed as he clenched his jaw tightly shut. He looked at the ground and solemnly shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Fitz," he said, continuing to shake his head as he looked back up at the other man. "I gave you the wrong advice before. Don't try to avoid any of this. Moments like this...they're what _make_ the good moments truly good. Anything less would just feel...artificial. You can't accept the good without the bad, Fitz.... You would never forgive yourself."

Fitz looked on in wonder, trying to soak up everything he was hearing. For some reason, he knew this moment would be one that he remembered into his old age, and he didn't want to get the lesson wrong. A determined look settled on Fitz's face as he stared his boss in the eye. He gave one nod in reply, a silent promise, this one more sure than the first. And Coulson nodded too, satisfied.

A silence drew out between them as they each reflected on the conversation they had just shared. But something continued to nag at Fitz in the back of his mind. As moved as he was by Coulson's speech, it still left one obvious question lingering right in front of him.

"But sir?" he asked.

Coulson looked at him expectantly in reply.

Fitz's resolve seemed to waver and he quickly shook his head, breaking the eye contact. "Never mind."

Coulson's expression lowered in concern. "Hey, no. Go ahead. What were you going to ask?"

Fitz hesitated for a moment longer, but he quickly realized that Coulson wasn't going to let him drop the subject now. He sighed. "Well, it's just that...I'm just wondering, what happens now. I mean, it sounds like you and Audrey had some pretty nice things in the past, but I've just seen you destroy a music room because of your feelings for the woman so...I mean, I get that you have to take the bad with the good, but...what exactly does that mean now? Where do you go from here?"

Coulson was caught off guard by the question. He shook his head and looked down at the piano again, biting his lip hard in thought. "I don't know," he confessed quietly. "Audrey and I...we've had a lot of the good, and now we're wrestling with the bad. It's...doubtful that we'll ever be able to end things on a good note again." Coulson gave a small shrug. "I'd like to say that, now, we just close that door and each move on with our lives. But...like I told you before...some people are hard to get over."

Fitz nodded slowly. He could believe that.

_"Sir?"_

The voice startled Coulson out of the moment. It was Simmons, coming through the small communication device in his ear. "I'm here," he answered a second later, clearing his throat once to try to draw the heartache from the conversation out of his voice.

_"Agent Triplet and I have Ms. Nathan and have confirmed she is in good health. Shall we take her back to her home now?"_

Coulson nodded, even though he knew the young woman couldn't see his response. "Sounds good. Fitz and I are heading to the car now. We'll be right behind you."

Coulson looked back at Fitz in the dim light and the younger man offered a subtle half smile, the kind of smile that asked more than it said. Coulson walked slowly back to the door, pausing in the doorway to grab the scientist's shoulder. He gave it a short squeeze, a silent thank you, and then passed him by.

Fitz lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, looking back at the haphazard pile of bent music stands in the corner of the room. He knew there were more things than simple metal stands that were left broken in that room. But the man before him seemed content to leave it behind, so Fitz would too. He had seen this man battle countless villains and dodge hundreds of bullets, but this? Subjecting himself to this level of intensity, this level of emotion? It very well might have been the most courageous thing he had ever seen Agent Phil Coulson do.

Fitz smiled softly at the room, feeling somehow satisfied by the story it told. Then, he too turned and headed down the hallway, following Coulson's lead.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really am curious to hear what you thought of this story. Be sure to let me know in the comments below!


End file.
